19.   Jasra’s Prisoner.

 

 

In the morning, the maids found Allysa curled up in the comforter with a platter of crumbs, a goblet with a few dregs of wine, and several pages of sketches in varying stages of completion. They brought piles of fresh clothes to select from, and a rather hearty breakfast. Either they didn’t understand Thari or had been ordered to pretend so – Allysa's inquiries of Jasra were met with total silence. After they disappeared, Allysa found herself left completely alone to wander the Keep which appeared lifeless – not a soul was encountered and most rooms were either empty or contained furniture under dust covers. The sound of the machinery never ceased and seemed to intensify when she descended downstairs, but each time the stairs led to a dead end. Sometimes there were sliding metal doors, but those could not be opened. Perhaps some kind of a cardkey should have been inserted into a small slot located next to each of these doors, but she did not have one.

 

The exits to the yard were not locked but guarded from the outside, and when opened, long lances of the guards were unambiguously crossing in her face. Amazingly her Trumps did not even turn cold. Allysa recalled that Merlin had mentioned some substance that prevented Trumps from working. Apparently something of the kind was employed here. She cursed herself for trusting Jasra as it seemed more and more obvious that she was a prisoner, though she could not figure out for what purpose Jasra would go to the trouble of abducting her. She took time to sketch a little map of the place, though it appeared to be vast, the guards, and of course the fountain, but for someone that enjoyed chit-chat as much as Allysa did, this solitude was a slow torture. She wondered what would happen when her travel art supplies would run out after a few days. Perhaps she would have to start improvising with pigments and whatever might be found around.

 

At dinnertime the retainers had no trouble in finding her, so most probably she had been watched all the time, though she did not understand how. Perhaps, if more technically inclined, she would have noticed small devices here and there, which a Shadow Earth dweller would have easily identified as closed circuit television cameras. Most probably such dweller would have also assigned the all-penetrating hum to great electric generators running somewhere under the building. But Alyssa was not technically inclined, so in a huge dining room, under an enormous portrait of Jasra in a white dress and diamonds, at the oak table that could easily accommodate a fifty, she dined all alone, surrounded by silent attendants bringing countless gold trays with gourmet dishes, and wondered where all this food came from in the empty building.

 

The end of this meal had her leaned back near the head of the table as she had refused to take liberties and eat at the head. The bulk of the meal was taken away and Allysa was picking at desserts and decided to fan her Trump deck. The cards still would not turn cold as she thumbed through them thoughtfully. Pretty, decorational momentos, but nothing more at the moment. She smiled fondly at the Trump of young Brand.  Brand had had happy eyes back then, she thought to herself. Three sheets were left in the sketchpad and a little nub of charcoal to draw with. She sighed a little as she took stock of her supplies. She propped up the Trump of Brand and put the rest of the Trumps into her carry case. She would sketch out a nice black and white of young Brand as was depicted in the card and as she remembered him.

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